The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man

Sweden

Nine thousand kronor in, minus half that in start-up costs. It wouldn’t cover the payments to Facebook by a long shot, and since the results of the ad had quickly died down it was obvious that this business idea was not viable in the long term.

A few days later, though, they received three new enquiries. The first two led nowhere; the third was a request for a séance, a man who wanted to contact his brother, who had died in a tragic accident. As always, background information from the customer was the key to a séance’s success. Esmeralda sat down in the kitchen and called the man via the computer. Her face was white when she joined the old men in the living room. Julius was in the easy chair; Allan had his tablet and was on his back in his white coffin with red roses.

‘What’s going on?’ Julius asked.

Sabine didn’t respond. But Allan did.

The new president of France had used ugly language when he thought no one was listening. And the German chancellor had given Putin in Moscow a talking to on the topic of various LGBTQ issues. Allan didn’t know what LGBTQ was. It sounded like a North Korean news bureau, but he assumed that couldn’t be right.

Julius snapped at his friend: he hadn’t been talking to him. Couldn’t Allan see that Sabine was completely distraught?

No, Allan said, he couldn’t. The lid of the coffin impeded his view. But if Sabine wished to clarify it would be to everyone’s advantage. Was he correct in thinking that her primary concern lay somewhere other than with this LGBTQ question? If so, she had Allan’s full support, especially if she told him what it meant.

Sabine tuned Allan out: she’d learned to do so when necessary. Instead she said she had just booked a séance for one Johnny, who wished to contact his brother Kenneth.

‘Great,’ said Julius. ‘What do we know about Kenneth?’

‘Too much,’ said Sabine. ‘He’s the one who was supposed to be in the Nazi coffin we made.’

‘The one who shot at us later?’ Allan asked.

‘No, he didn’t do much shooting. That was his brother. He’s coming here tomorrow. At one o’clock.’